I will draw circles in obsidian,
section by section, tracing the dark verbs,
when the day will be the last day
among gluttonous beasts
with moonlit hooves
that will want to love
the life of one single line of verse,
a benefit of undamaged compasses
under columns of cloud-capped ivy.
That's how we won't come to chart
the course of bustling rivers.
I will stay inside the circles under adverse snow
and abolish the sea that sets me ablaze,
desolate pencil of the chasm.

Translated into English by D. Sam Abrams